Violet Hill
by May Arisa
Summary: White snow - the last conversation between China and Russia, with the world standing by. Anger, hurt, grief, war and death. After all, the future doesn't care about the past. RoChu. (Sort of) inspired by the song Violet Hill by Coldplay. Warning: character deaths.


I really don't know where this one-shot came from, but it suddenly appeared in my head and I _had_ to write it down. The titel is from Coldplay's song _Violet Hill_ from Coldplay while reading, and I recommend listening to it while you read this, for it is what I listened to when I wrote this. I don't know the setting, probably somewhere in the future, but it doesn't really matter. It is past/slightly present Russia/China, or RoChu, with a warning of (multiple) character deaths. I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes and/or grammatical errors you may encounter. Now, on with the story!

* * *

The battlefield was silent, despite the thousands of soldiers on both sides and the few hundreds of Nations on one side. Russia stood in the snow, in front of them, his rifle loaded. Across of him stood China, alone before his troops who were half visible through the bare trees and falling snowflakes. He had a dark expression on his face, but had drawn no weapon yet.

"Do it, then!" China bellowed. "Shoot me, I dare you!" He opened his arms in an sarcastic parody of a welcoming gesture. The bitter pain in his voice escaped none of the Nations.

Russia lowered the rifle while a single tear leaked out of his left eye. This shouldn't have happened. This war shouldn't have happened. He knew that, but it was too late now for apologies or peace talks. The world has seen too much ruin and too much death to simply draw back and go sit around the table.

"Russia…" Germany faltered, not knowing what he could possibly say. His Italy was next to him, safe on his side. On top of that was he not particularly close to the great Nation, nobody was, and even their forced alliance hadn't changed any attitudes towards the Russian.

Russia took a few steps forward. China mirrored him, the distance between them decreasing.

From closer up Russia could see how China's eyes shimmered with tears. They would not fall, he knew. China was much too proud and determined for that.

"Yao…" It was a soft whisper, spoken in a soothing tone one would use on a distraught child.

"Ivan." China responded, not cold, but rather void of emotion, as if he had locked them away for this last confrontation. Russia would have too, were it not for the enormous magnitude of them that simply could not be controlled.

"We can end this now, Ivan. It is very simple: shoot me, and I won't shoot you." It hurt Russia to hear China say his name in such a way. Names were for Nations very private things, only to be shared with those most close.

Russia lifted his rifle again.

China's face altered into an ugly grin that spoke of self-confidence and arrogance. He was certain Russia would not kill his once-lover. Russia still had feelings for him, they had not lessened since the days they were both still happy and together.

The safe was slowly pulled over, an audible _click_ in the cold air.

"You won't do it, Ivan. I know you. You won't do it. And do you know why that is?" China paused, partly for the dramatic effect and partly to let that question sink in deeply.

Russia didn't move.

"You are weak, that's why. You so desperately seek for something, for someone, to keep, to cherish, and maybe even love!" The last word was spat out with distaste.

"You found that in me, didn't you? Wasn't I the perfect plaything? Well? Say something!" Russia kept silent, his eyes fixed on the amber orbs of his opponent.

Yao sighed, acknowledging to himself Russia wouldn't say a word unless he wanted to himself. His voice turned sad.

"And to think that for a time I believed you, that I fell for it!" He shook his head.

"Not anymore, Ivan. I won't put up with your little games and your lies any longer. One way or another, this will end today.

So. Shoot. Or I will." Now China produced a weapon. It was an old one, a pistol of ages past, in good shape but utterly useless against the armor that all soldiers and Nations wore. It could be quite handy against unreinforced body parts, such as faces or hands, if the bullets came through the obligatory gloves and faceplates.

But Russia gasped. He recognized China's weapon of choice, not picked because of the firepower but because of the psychological wounds it would open. Russia had given that very pistol to China, a long time ago, to celebrate the official alliance between their countries, when they were both still communists and the Cold War had just started.

It was cruel, bringing up all those good memories and taint them with the present.

"Yao, why? Why this war? I can understand it if you wanted to leave me, though I'd have much rather you wouldn't, but why involve innocents? Why involve people? Why start this damn war?" Near the end Russia found himself shouting and he felt hot wet trails on his cheeks. He was crying but he didn't care. Not now, not here, not in front of Yao, who had just denied everything they'd ever had together.

China gave him a mocking and condescending smile. "You ask all that, but don't you know the answers already?" When he received again no answer, he sighed.

"You hurt me, Ivan. When I realized you were only using me, it hurt, worse than anything I ever felt before. You broke my heart, if you want to use a cliché. And don't you know what those who are hurt and betrayed do? They lash out. Yes, that's right. I wanted to hurt you too, but first I didn't know how. You care for nothing, so there was nothing I could take away from you. But then I realized something else," here China grinned savagely, "something your old enemies never thought of before. You are just like us. You are a Nation. You have people, and for us it is impossible _not_ to care for them. Yet the only way to hurt a whole people is through war and through secret assaults. But I didn't want to stick to secrecy. I wanted you to know that it was I that hurt you, so you would suffer worse than I did. I did not know others" here he nodded in the general direction of the other Nations "would go interfering in our business. The deaths of their people are no ones' fault but their own."

Russia's hands shook. For a moment it seemed the rifle would slip from his fingers, but he managed to hold on.

They were a strange sight to see: a tall man all but defeated and a short man, expecting victory, in the middle of a large clearing in an old forest, leafless and the ground covered by a thick layer of snow, while parts of enormous armies were visible between the trees and helicopters that hovered above.

But they all could just as well not have been there. They were of no importance compared to the tension that surrounded the Russian and the Chinese.

"Come on. Do it," China whispered so that only Russia could hear him.

Russia raised his rifle to eyelevel, though that wasn't necessary for the short distance that the bullet needed overcome.

"You can't, can you? You can't do it." China straightened and smoothed the wrinkles out his uniform.

"Then I will kill you." The words were impassive, contrasting with his earlier emotions, Russia noticed. Nevertheless China unlocked the safety pal and turned back to Russia.

A gunshot pierced the pre-dawn air, smoke rose from the clearing.

Russia and China locked eyes.

Almost simultaneously they stumbled, falling on their knees. Still they kept on looking at each other as the previously clean snow colored red.

"You waited on purpose," China said, in utter surprise. "You waited until I shot you!" Anger partly replaced the astonished tone in his voice. "How could you? Now you've ruined everything –"

"No," Russia coughed. "You have ruined everything. I merely wiped away the remains. Others will start building anew, but neither you nor me will be there." A true and happy smile crossed his face. "With enough time we won't even be remembered, this whole war will be forgotten and all you or I did was for nothing and no one."

"No…" China said, more to himself than to Russia. It was clear that this was a new perspective. "It wasn't for nothing, my efforts will be remembered even in the far future…"

"In the far future maybe, but not foreve –" a whacking cough interrupted him, and even more red painted the snow.

"Yao – come. Before everyone is here." After the gunshots were fired the Nations and various other soldiers had started running towards them.

Grudgingly Yao inched forward while Ivan did the same. Then Ivan collapsed, not having the strength to get up again and continue his arduous journey. Yao made it a few more seconds, but then he also went down.

They lay in a steaming pool of their own blood in the snow, close but not touching.

With great effort Ivan opened his eyes to the sky.

"I did not use you, you know," he whispered to the fading stars.

Yao sighed.

"I know."


End file.
